Married to a Dragon
by PurpleNarwhal
Summary: Marriage law fic. Not a new concept, but one I wanted to take a stab at. Draco and Hermione are thrown together in the worlds most hated marriage. Neither one are happy, but both of them have to figure out a way to live with it. Rated M for future scenes
1. Married to a Dragon

The wedding ceremony was strangely large, but it was all Draco's. His family, at least what part of them aren't in jail, filled the pews. It's a chapel in the ministry, used for all the new weddings. She said her vows bitingly, and he stated his in a flat, angry monotone. The silver bands are slipped onto their fingers, and people clap respectfully. People quietly congratulate the couple, and the family files out of the building, mumbling gossip about the newlyweds.

Hermione groaned through clenched teeth, flopping down on an overstuffed couch to wait for the ministry representative. Draco paces, walking circles around the room. The silver ring feels like it's burning, pressing too hard onto her skin. A woman in a blue pantsuit walks in, clenching a binder against her chest.

"Hello Mr. and Mrs…Malfoy?" She crosses the room quickly and sits down on the chair opposite from them, motioning for Draco to sit on the couch. He reluctantly sits, on the opposite end.

"I assume you're aware of the pretense for the Law?" She nods, and Draco does the same. "We are hoping to re-populate the wizarding world as quickly as possible after the war."

"If we know why the law is here, why did you tell us." Draco is boiling, and his teeth seem close to shattering from being clenched. The woman mirrors his expression, if only for a second.

"Please, Mr. Malfoy. It's my job." She pulls out papers from her binder and laws them out neatly on the table, placing pens beside them. She runs through the obligatory paper-signing part of this, before taking a deep breath in.

"The marriage has to be…consummated within 48 hours. If not, you will both be subject to disciplinary action." The two nod, both with a raging blush. The woman nods and gathers up the papers, walking quickly out of the office.

Hermione and Draco sit there in silence for almost a half hour before Hermione stands up and walks to the doorway, turning right before leaving. "We should be getting…home."

The apartment is small, but lovely. It's modernly furnished, and has a beautiful view. The kitchen and living room are adjoined, with an intimate dining room off to the side. A guest bedroom is next to the bathroom, and a wide door opens to a main bedroom.

"Bloody…" She mumbled, rolling a small suitcase in behind her. It's a gorgeous apartment, but it's hard to get past the fact that Draco _bloody_ Malfoy is the one she's going to have to share it with. She'd been trying to forgive him, since the war, because of all he and his family lost, he was starting to realize how awful he had been. At the same time, she was having trouble adjusting to the fact that she was now married, to him, of all people. It's a painful reality, but one that she easily avoids by walking over to the other bedroom.

She pulled her suitcase into the side bedroom, slamming the door behind her. 48 hours. 48 hours until it becomes real.

He wakes up splayed across the bed, to the smell of pancakes. Light is filtering in through the window, hitting him right in the eyes. He groans loudly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and padding out into the main room.

Hermione is working at the stove, pouring spoonful's' of the batter onto a griddle. Her movements are calculated, stiff. Draco stands there for some time, just watching, until she spins around to place a few on a plate.

The pancakes were speared with a fork, and in the process of being dropped when she processed that he was standing there. Her jaw tightens immediately. Her knuckles clench and turn white, and she carefully places the cakes onto the plate. She spun across the counter at him, slamming the fork down next to her.

"Syrup's in the pantry if you want it." It wasn't a courteous offering. It was formed out of anger, and if tone could kill, Draco would be lying on the floor, dead, by now. The next batch of the pancakes is slapdash at best, but she eats them nonetheless.

Breakfast passes in silence. As soon as Hermione's fork clinks onto the plate, Draco takes a deep breath in.

"I think we should talk about this." It was the worst possible thing he could have said, of course, and that's evident when she slides her char violently backwards and stands up.

"Because talking is going to make this so much better?" Her arms cross defensively across her chest as she leans against the fridge.

"No, bu-"He's cut off by her starting to pace.

"Draco, would you stop being so bloody selfish all the time? Because, honestly, talking isn't going to make me any less unhappy with this. I'm going to have to..." She pauses and shudders slightly. "Consummate this marriage-which, by the way, I would _kill_ to get out of- with the boy who spent the past seven years trying to kill me." Her hair has gone wild, the curls seem to have grown a mind of their own. It takes all the willpower he has not to swipe the few in front of him out of her face. She crosses the room quickly and leans over his chair. Their faces are close now, but it's not in any way romantic or tense. The only energy there is anger. Pure, blinding hatred.

"Just know this. Consummation…" She says it with a bite in her voice."…Doesn't require love." His chair is soon pushed back, and he joins her standing. The height difference is enormous. He's an easy 6"2' to her meager 5"9', but that doesn't make her any less intimidating.

"Granger, you honestly think I'm any less miserable?" It's escalated from a quiet yell to almost screaming by this point, and his normally pale face is turning red. "This isn't going to make me hate you any less. And let's not forget that my family is the one who dragged me into this. You may be a mudblood, and one of the most annoying creatures to _ever_ be created, but I wouldn't kill you without a damn good reason. And right now, you're giving me a pretty damn good one."

"Oh, your reason is because I'm pissed?"

"My reason is so I can get out of this bloody marriage!" He says the word _marriage_ with his classic sneer, and the contortion of his face in this moment of anger is almost comical.

"It's not just a marriage, you blooming idiot! It's about _repopulation_. In three months, I'm expected to be pregnant!"

"Oh for god's sake! Why do you keep focusing on that part?" He takes a second to comb his hair back. "It's just sex, Granger." His tone hushes slightly, and he sits back into his discarded chair. "Unless…" The sitting doesn't last long. "Oh my god. You're a virgin, aren't you?" A cheeky smile is playing across his lips. "Not that it's a surprise to anyone. The perfect Gryffindor girl is a prude? No way." The sarcasm is palpable.

"So what if I am?" Her chin juts out in anger. "It wouldn't change anything. I'd still spend every waking minute thinking about ripping off your head." Even with her back turned, you can tell that her eyes are starting to fill with tears.

The door to the spare room slams behind her, and soon enough, muffled sobs leak through the cracks. He flops down on the couch and stares up at the ceiling, trying his best not to just run around punching walls. It might work better with drywall, though. At Hogwarts, all he ever got were bloodied knuckles from the stone.

24 hours until it's real. 24 hours until he's going to have to be _with_ Granger.


	2. Living with a Dragon

The day passes in silence. Hermione spends most of it on some glowing muggle device, searching for jobs. Draco mopes around, levitating or transfiguring random objects just to elicit an annoyed groan from Hermione. After a while of perusing job requests, she picks the laptop, as it's apparently called, up and moves back to her room. Leaving Draco completely alone in the crushing silence of the house.

Silence isn't always bad, especially when the silence is coming from Granger. But in the case of this tense silence, it feels like it's floating over their heads. The argument yesterday left them both rattled, and left the two of them wanting to take back a few words.

After almost half an hour of crushing silence only broken by the occasional _thump_ as Draco throws a ball at the ceiling, Hermione opens her door again. She makes her way slowly across the wide living room, and eventually sits stiffly in the chair opposite him. He immediately straightens himself, unusually conscious of his appearance, for some reason.

"It's not supposed to be this awkward." Her voice is a hoarse whisper. "But we have to talk about this." The next words, she barely chokes out. "You're right."

Draco smirks smugly, leaning forward. It doesn't do much to cross the distance between them, but it's a step. Hermione pulls her hair into a thick tail behind her, sighing in exasperation. She rubs a headache away and mirrors his position. Their eyes lock together, but they soon both look away.

"This is awful." He's examining the walls again, for almost the 20th time. Even though it's been 6 years of tormenting her, he still has to figure out a way to live with her. For some reason, it's hard to look at her as an enemy anymore. The way she's sitting, with her shoulders drawn to together and her head bowed, she just looks so…vulnerable. It's an overstuffed chair, and it makes her look small. She's normally so headstrong and intimidating, but she's just so…scared.

Five minutes of nervous glances around the room, Hermione breaks the silence.

"Instead of talking about it, can we just make ground rules for…" For once, she doesn't know the right words. "Tomorrow night?" She's been biting her lip, leaving behind small red marks on the edges of her mouth. Everything about her reads nervous.

"You're a virgin?" It's hard for him to abandon his trademark smug attitude, so the last word comes out bitter.

"Are you really all that surprised?" A few hairs had slid loose, and she peeks up through the strands with a small smile on her face. "As I recall from yesterday, it's not a surprise. To anybody." She paused for barely any seconds. "Look at us. Virgin and a man-whore. What was the ministry thinking?" She starts pacing again, in the same line she was on last night.

"I don't think many people are happy with their pairings, if it makes you feel any better. I'm sure the head of the Marriage department has a lot of hexes to look forward to." He's refusing to make eye contact, leaving Hermione to look at the back of his head and his folded hands.

The minutes tick by, once again, quietly. Hermione has settled her pacing to a small circle in the kitchen, which leads to her working up something for dinner. Draco ran his fingers slowly over the bookshelf for almost five minutes before selecting one and slumping back down onto the couch.

She finishes eating her single portion salad relatively quickly. When her fork his the plate, it reverberates around the dead silence.

_"So much for talking about it_" She thought to herself, the hot dishwater running over her hands. He hasn't moved from the living room, and she sighs, leaning against the counter. They were supposed to be talking about it. Is fighting better than this awkwardness? In all seven years of school, there was one thing she could always count on. Malfoy would always be rude and angry. It's pretty clear that neither of them know what to do with this lack of animosity. She grabs a book from the shelf and sits on the chair opposite, curling her legs up to her chest.

She sits there, the thick tome hanging from her fingers, staring across the table at him. His glare is gone, aside from the furrowed brow that _hopefully_ is from something happening in the book. His hair is normally combed, but he obviously raked it loose during the fight, and it's now running rampant, with strands sticking out at seemingly random spots. She starts to open the book without looking away from him, but the noise causes Draco to look up. She quickly darts her gaze away and flips to a random page, fighting to resist the urge to see if he was still staring back at her.

It's eleven when one of them moves. Draco yawns and straightens himself, slowly padding over to his bedroom. He pauses in the doorway and turns around, only for a split second.

"Goodnight"

It's an olive branch, of a sort, however so smart.

Olive branches aren't supposed to make you feel this upset and anxious, are they? For the first time, the two of them actually seem civil. And it's made things more awkward than just living together could. The walls of the apartment are a plain white, but she somehow finds them interesting enough to stare at until midnight, when exhaustion takes over.

It's a seemingly eternal walk across the giant penthouse living room, especially for somebody as tired as her. The other room is small, cramped. Barely enough room to stand without feeling claustrophobic.

"At least I won't be in here forever." She mumbles, folding herself into bed. It doesn't take long for her to fall asleep, comforted slightly by Draco's snores drifting across the apartment.


	3. Being With a Dragon

**A/N** **I cannot apologize more. This has taken far too long. 1/3 of it is the need to work on school, since I'm now in high school. 1/3 of it was personal problems/procrastination, and 1/3 of it is the fact that this chapter was really, really hard to write. This is my first time at smut, and I tried to keep it still technically PG-13. I'll get into more smuttysmut later. I hope you enjoy this one!**

The last day of moderate happiness passed very slowly. It seemed like a movie, of sorts. Neither of them spoke. An occasional cough or mumble, but nothing specific, or especially audible. Draco spent his day shifting between several different positions on the two open seats, or wandering aimlessly between the rooms. He settled a few times, reading a book, fiddling with the furniture, or just tossing a ball at the ceiling. The air conditioner's white noise fills the silence, but by noon the humming feels like a woodpecker has landed in the ducts.

Nine rolls around after an excruciating day or boredom. Hermione finishes the pasta she prepared and sets the bowl down. It's a louder clink than usual, maybe because of the suffocating silence. Draco looks up from his crouched position, and their eyes connect for a fraction. She breaks the quiet, but only barely. It's not more than a whisper, but it sounds like a scream.

"We should get ready."

Draco moves slowly into his bedroom and pushes the door almost shut. He slides off his shirt and lay down on the bed. His heart is beating out his chest as the seconds tick by. He knows what's about to happen. It doesn't matter much about the person. Girls back at school were all over him, and before long, they blurred together. This one is just another girl. Just like the others.

It's hard for Hermione to slip out of her sweatpants. Goosebumps had risen over her skin as she undressed, and putting on the oversized tee-shirt didn't help any. It lands right above her legs, and as she walks it brushes lightly on her skin. She pushes open the door and her breath catches in her chest. Draco sits up slightly, letting his eyes graze over her skin. She clasps her hands in front of herself and steps slightly closer to him. He starts to scoot over some on the bed, but she shakes her head slightly. It's a queen bed, more than enough room, but she chooses to lay right next to him. Her hands lay splayed, and Draco grabs the one closest to him gently. His movements are cold. Everything he does has a slightly robotic tint to it. Hermione lays there, just a flat slab. Her breath catches as he turns and climbs on top of her, but he still refuses to even look at her. Her hands nervously start to unbutton his jeans, but he breaths out a "_no_". He slides them off of his legs and pushes his hands under the hem of her shirt. He's not being crude, however, he moves his hands down and around her back and traces a line up her spine slowly, laughing a little when her back arches up. She inhales through her teeth and catches his eye.

"Draco." She pauses as he traces small circles on her arm. "Kiss me."

The shock is evident in his eyes. He licks his lips nervously and dips his head down. Their lips connect for barely a second, and both of their eyes widen. It's chemistry. Chemistry forged out of the most heated anger. He slides a hand through the back of her hair and pulls her up closer. Their faces crash together and they turn around on the bed. Draco shifts up her shirt over her head, and for the first time since the law, she doesn't care that he's looking at her.

He wraps his other hand around the small of her back and pulls her closer to him. Their bodies meld and curve together while rolling and thrashing on the bed. The sheets have slid off the bed and the pillows are scattered. Neither of them are conscious of this, nor do they care.

She can feel the heat starting to build up in the pit of her stomach as he hooks an arm around her leg and slides two fingers around the hem of her knickers. He's not being pushy though, despite all expectations

He disconnects and leans slightly back. They're both breathing heavily, and it takes some time for him to choke out words.

"Are you ready?" He asks. It's little more than a husky whisper.

"Yes." She breathes the word out as his lips collide again with hers.

She showers first, careful to not scrub too hard. A part of her wants to rid herself of every scrap of his scent, and the other part wants to turn around and curl up next to him again. All tension dissolved after they finished, and they both laughed over the carnage of the room. Too much time was spent in harmony, though, and Hermione rushed off to the bathroom to try and regain some of her dignity, it's a scalding fifteen minutes of internal battles before the water starts to cool down. She pulls her hair into a tight bun and wraps a robe around herself, trying to summon the courage to open the door.

Draco half-dressed himself, pants on, shirt discarded on the dresser. He turns around quickly with a pillow hanging from his hand. He cleaned up the room, at least partially, and he's not smirking every time he looks at her anymore. She stands awkwardly outside of the bathroom door for a few seconds before turning and going back to her room, leaving him completely alone.

Her hands are shaking as she unpacks a clean pair of pajamas. The heat in her stomach hadn't gone away, even from the blistering shower. Her entire body is wobbling to the point of making her sit down to get changed. Across the apartment, you can hear Draco taking a shower. His is much shorter though, and before long it's silent again.

It's almost an hour of anxious insomnia before she decides on taking the leap. Her room is impeccable, but somehow she trips over at least three things on her way out of the dark bedroom. The wall of windows captures a breathtaking London skyline, all lit up. It makes it easier to get across the wide sitting room, but not any easier to turn the doorknob and venture into the other room.

Draco is stretched out across the bed and snoring lightly. His face caught a ray of moonlight from the open window. He had changed the sheets, a dark red that sharply contrasts his pale features. She moved over to the open side of the bed and gingerly climbed in, careful not to disturb him.

Their breathing evens as they lay together. For the first time in three days of marriage, they made a step past civil. Maybe a step towards happiness.


End file.
